


Grayer Days

by agoodtuckering



Series: Doctor Who Oneshots and Stories [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s09e02 The Witch's Familiar, F/M, Feelings, Heartache, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 00:17:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11932344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodtuckering/pseuds/agoodtuckering
Summary: Takes place directly after The Witch's Familiar. Clara isn't alright after having nearly lost her Doctor and having been stuck inside a Dalek's casing. The Doctor's there for her, though. He'll take care of her.





	Grayer Days

She was too quiet on the way home. She didn’t say much, didn’t seem to be _seeing_ much, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Quietly, as gently as one would be with a caged animal, he made his way around the console and wandered towards Clara. She was stock-still, as if frozen and lost in her own mind. He reached out for her with a gentle hand, fingers ghosting along her forearm and bicep before coming to rest lightly upon her shoulder.  
  
“Clara? Clara are you alright?”  
  
The words brought her back to the here-and-now, a dazed look on her face. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” Her words felt… _flat._ There was no inflection, no tone to her voice. And when her eyes met his, something was missing.

He came to stand in front of her, his free hand finding her opposite shoulder as well. “What is it? Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged her gently. _“Please.”_

 _How can I help you if you won’t tell me what to do?_ The words were ringing in his ears.

Finally, she spoke. “You never said goodbye.” Right out with it, then? She wasn’t afraid to tell him what was on her mind. Not anymore. And he said he _wanted_ to know.

Two graying brows drew together, a pair of pale blue eyes resting on Clara’s face, a look which could only be described as shock and apprehension finding his facial features. He stood still for a moment, brain not entirely comprehending her words.

“You never bothered to say goodbye to me,” she continued on bravely. “You left. You knew you were going to die, or at least you _thought_ you were going to, and you never told me. Not one word. You never came to see me. You never gave me a goodbye. I never would have known what happened to you. How could you do that to _me?”_

She began to cry, her words trailing off as her eyes filled with tears. He didn’t even know what to do, or how to respond. He was so _shocked._

“I thought you cared about me,” she said softly. “I thought you loved me. How could you do that to someone you love? How dare you even thinking about leaving me. I’ve lost too much. I’ve lost Danny. Danny’s gone. But to lose you, _too?_ I wouldn’t survive that, Doctor.”

Everything felt so… gray, in that moment. Everything felt so painful, inside. She wouldn’t be alright without him. She knew that, to her very core. Grayer days would follow his loss.

He was overcome with emotion in that moment. Gentle hands brought her close, needing to feel her weight in his arms. He held her close, _cradled_ her close, and allowed his chin to rest upon her head. “I’m so sorry, Clara,” he murmured in response. “It was a goodbye that I didn’t trust myself to give. Because I never would have left. I’m not very good with goodbyes.”

A long moment passed before he dared to find his voice again. He spoke in her hair, his words soft and tender, unlike anything she’d ever heard from him before.

“I’ve let you down a lot lately, haven’t I? I need to stop doing that,” he told her. “I’m never going to leave you. I’m making you a promise. Believe me, please. And if you don’t, I’m going to show you… But first, tell me how you’re feeling. You were stuck in a Dalek’s casing. I’m worried about you, Clara. Wasn’t all just nerves, was it? Can you feel my arms around you?”  
  
She didn’t say anything for a long, terrifying moment. Then she piped up. “No, Doctor. I can’t.”

His hearts were just about wrenched from his chest in that moment. He drew away, needing to see her face to know it was real. Delicate hands cupped her face, like he had mere hours before, and wiped away any tears there.

“We’ll fix this,” he told her. “You’re going to be alright. Might just take the night. You need to sleep this off. You’re on sensory overload now that you aren’t in the Dalek casing anymore. It happened to me once, too.”  
  
That, if anything, made her eyebrow rise. She nodded, though. Just nodded. And when they arrived back at her flat, he followed her out into her bedroom, right where he’d parked his blue box, and he threw back the covers for her.

“Sleep,” he told her. “Lie down and sleep. I’ll stay. I won’t leave. In fact, I’ll go put the kettle on. How does that sound, hm?” All he got in response was another nod but it was enough for the time being. “Put something comfortable on. I’ll be back.”

He turned, heading off to her kitchen. Her knew her flat like he knew his TARDIS. He found his way around just fine, fetching some mugs, the teapot, and the kettle. He made some chamomile, then snagged a few biscuits for Clara as well. Anything to make her smile, if he could.

When he returned, he found her fast asleep in bed, wearing an old t-shirt with the covers drawn up to her shoulders. Unable to help himself, he stood in the doorway and watched her rest, watched the way her chest rose and fell, the way her eyelashes fluttered occasionally.

Eventually, he came further into the room and set their ceramic mugs down on the nightstand. He could read for a while. He could watch some telly, not that he was a fan. He could do anything, really. All thought left his mind, however, the moment she reached out for a pillow beside her to hold. She mumbled something, a bit fitful. It took him a long moment to realize she’d said, “Come here.” She _wasn’t_ asleep, only halfway there.

His cheeks immediately began to burn with embarrassment but he complied with her request as easily as one could. He toed off his black boots, nudged off his coat, and turned to lie down at her side in just a dark hoodie and a Bowie t-shirt. Comfortable, cozy. And unreasonably _terrified._

To have her so close… He almost didn’t trust himself. Not around _her._

With a soft sigh, he watched as she slipped closer and came to rest on his chest. “Take your big jumper off,” she mumbled tiredly. “That can’t possibly be comfortable. Don’t you ever get hot, wearing five-thousand layers?”  
  
He chuckled in amusement, murmuring, “Exaggerating a bit, now are we?”

Nevertheless, he slipped out of his jumper after unzipping it and got comfortable there with her, silently drawing her close and letting her sprawl out beside him. She felt so small, so fragile in his arms. So _Human._

Maybe she’d forgive him in the morning. Maybe she’d forgive him for never saying goodbye. For all the words that would have went unsaid. One day he’d tell her just how much he loved her, adored her. For now, all he could mutter was a soft, “Sleep well, Clara.” But it was his way of saying, ‘I love you.’ He hoped she knew that.

The Doctor wasn’t one for affection, but for her, he could change. Tonight was the beginning of it. In fact, he had been coming for some time. Since Christmas. Since their terrifying incident with the dream crabs. Since they’d been given a _second chance._

Second chances were so rare. He knew that.

A pair of warm lips brushed her brow, nose bumping her hairline. The words were caught in his throat, though. _You’re my whole Universe. You have to be okay._


End file.
